18 Steps from Extinction
by The Fish with no pen
Summary: After Egypt Sam begins asking questions that spark ideas on how to answer the question of survival for the Autobots as they settle onto Earth. While finding his own place as well in the world.
1. Chapter 1

**Full Story Title:** 18 Steps from Extinction, or how Sam finds out his place in everything

**Challenge:** 18coda (On Livejournal) #6. Ostinato: (Italian: obstinate)-indicates a part that repeats the same rhythm or melodic element  
**Rating:** K/K+  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Bumblebee  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd, Post RoTF  
**Chapter Summary:** Sam finally lets his death affect him, only to have a certain yellow Camaro ruin the panicked and depressing mood.

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to anything herein of this story. They belong to various companies like Hasbro and no profit is being made from this.

**Full Story Summary:** After Egypt Sam starts to think about his life, which leads him to finding out about the lives of his Cybertronian friends. His questions soon spark ideas that may lead this race to an answer for their biggest question since their arrival on Earth. "How are they going to survive even after the war is over." while also finding his own place in the world, his home, and amongst the alien race living on earth with him now.

* * *

It had taken exactly two months, three days, and twenty hours after returning from Egypt for whatever coping mechanism Sam was using to stop working. This was how he found himself laying in the little corner of the attic where the roof slanted down and the various bits of junk created a barrier into a space that had once been a childhood hideaway when he and Miles used to play together here. Now it was a stuffy space that barely held him as he laid there, body motionless even as his mind kept going over and over the thought he had been denying until now.

He had died. Sure he was back but that made it even worse, because he was resurrected by an alien holy relic of some sort…like he was a sort of Jedi Jesus. Taking everything he had gone through since that day he first saw Bumblebee at the used car lot, into a realm of weird and out of sorts that he wasn't ready to deal with. What did it really mean in the long run here? Sure Ratchet had given him a clean bill of health after brightly colored medic had snatched him away from the military doctors, but how long was that going to last? It had already changed everything that was normal for him, and as much as he would like to go back to semi-oblivious life at college he had to admit he couldn't see himself sitting in a lecture anytime soon again.

Especially not now as his mind was finally allowed to let images of him spontaneously mutating into some half metal half flesh creature during a test, or seeing symbols again until he was as insane as Archibald Witwicky had gone and locked in a room of pillow walls. Or the day his constant involvement in being an Alien item finder made Mikaela realize seeing him was a bad idea, even if he did love her he didn't see a happy mundane life of getting a job and helping to give his mother grandchildren at all in his future. Not when he knew even Optimus or any of the Autobots really, knew what this meant for him. (Though he had to overhear Major Lennox and Sergeant Epps talking to find out the Autobots were worried and as lost as the humans were on what the Matrix had done to him.) He could stop aging, or just fall over dead for no reason at any moment.

He wasn't sure if a second death or some weird immortality scared him more at the moment.

And then his phone began to ring, with a ringtone he knew wasn't programmed into it but had become the staple calling card for the overprotective Camaro currently sitting in his driveway at the moment.

_#Sam, your stress levels are rising.#_

The text message was blunt and probably would have had him annoyed if it was anyone else, but after everything he knew that 'Bee knew he could read more then just the words on the screen. Like the various forms of the 'Are you okay?' and 'What can I do to help you?' questions that he had heard over and over again during the years of 'Bee being his guardian.

_#Well, I did die.#_

Sam didn't remember getting up or how he was already nearly tripping down the stairs to the first floor. Dodging past his dad and stopping only to pocket his cell once more before taking the invite of the open driver's door of the bright yellow sports car and settling into the very comfortable seats. The soft ticking of cooling metal and other little mechanical noises he normally missed when Bumblebee was having his engine going during a drive or the constant stream of radio chatter and song lyrics to amuse him, but were apparent now as both sat there in silence.

"I won't let it happen again Sam."

"You're not putting me into a modified hamster ball no matter how much you whine at me."

Sam didn't want to think about when he started to have a conversation within a conversation with a giant alien robot that transformed into a very bitchin' concept Camaro. It was a very welcome thing though, as it meant he could avoid sounding sappy around people at NEST.

"If I somehow got gipped of some awesome Highlander immortality, you better do whatever alien robot equivalent is of naming your first born after me to remember me."

"…If a chance for such arrives I will honor that."

The odd pause made the comforting feeling a bit strained, but Sam just threw those questions into a little box labeled 'Things to ask Ratchet about during the next kidnapping/check up' and settled back into the feeling of safety repeatedly being thrown at him as he sat there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Title:** Examination and Questions  
**Disclaimer: **I still don't make any money from this.  
**Challenge:** 18coda (on livejournal) #18 Rhapsody: (French: rapsodie) _implies a work free in form and inspiration_  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Ratchet  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd Post-RoTF, Ratchet found the famous Exposition Hat of video game fame  
**Summary:** Sam opens up his little mental box of 'Questions to ask Ratchet' and leaves with a lot of information, some despair, and oblivious to what he may have started. While Ratchet comes away from it all with a small bit of hope and a lot of needed thinking.

* * *

The examination table was mercifully lukewarm when Sam found himself once more being given a full check up by the now looming yellow-green Autobot, and not the skin stealing cold it had been the last time. Seeing the medic was not grumbling something barely out of his hearing range, and that the doors to the slowly being built medical area made Sam also feel bold enough to start asking the stupid questions in his mental box of things to ask Ratchet. As this meant there were no new arrivals and that Mudflap and Skids were probably regulated to manual labor somewhere far away from Ratchet. Something in his own face or pheromones (Because he was never going to let that incident go.) must have shown because Ratchet got the slightly suffering look of someone who has fielded a lot of stupid questions from humans but would do so again for political courtesy.

"Do you guys have kids? I mean, you guys tend to hover around Annabelle when Major Lennox is allowed to bring her onto base and that doesn't seem like just something picked up from the internet."

"We may not reproduce like organic creatures, but we do have social and nurturing emotions. Sparklings were a luxury in our society and so were rare and tended to be amongst the higher ranks of our economy."

"You just made a baby, I think that's what that word you used means, like some sort of rich mans toy."

"In a way."

He knew Ratchet was somewhat amused at his changing expression as his brain tried not to implode while translating that into a way he could understand. Only to have it not know what to do when Ratchet continued in Lecture Mode.

"For the most part we Cybertronians are sparked into a fully programmed and specifically upgraded for a certain job that was in need of another worker. However, some of the more financially stabled of our kind, and those of the general population who saved up both credits and resources would sometimes build or commission a frame not fully upgraded and lacking all but basic soft and hardware and a rudimentary emotional coding. Thus when ensparked it would be the equivalent of a human toddler and would thus imprint upon its caretakers and its environment to create its own unique personality and thus skill sets. Normally this is done to see what sort of mech would be created at the final upgrade, as many unorthodox professions have been invented this way in our society."

"Wait, wait so sparklings are like a social experiment to see what happens when you let the kid grow up randomly?"

"On an intellectual level yes. Emotionally it is similar to the relationship you and your caretakers display. It's just an inefficient way of population when you factor in the various modifications to frame and hardware and the time it takes for the changes to settle in the youngling."

"Then why do it? I mean you just said you guys come off the assembly line, or whatever ready to go be productive members of society already."

"Emotional by product of studying various other organic cultures. You humans are not the first organics we've encountered or observed with such social structures as yours have. Thus after a while are adaptation programming picked up some traits from these studies and firmware coded it into us."

"…So you guys suddenly got parental wants and found a way to handle that."

That must be a new record in gaining that annoyed look from Ratchet by his repeating things back in a far simpler way. Even as the examination started coming to a close.

"Aside from a small hormone imbalance that can easily be remedied you're fine."

"No super powers or a third arm growing?"

"If you were going to 'mutate' you would have done so by now."

"You never know it could like be dormant and will like trigger under certain conditions like the runes did."

"Get off the table and get dress before I make you clean the light fixtures again."

"Going."

It was after he had fallen over while trying to get his foot through the pant leg that was fighting him, did he remember another question was sitting in the 'Ratchet Box'.

"You guys are staying on earth right?"

"No, we're only vacationing here."

"Right stupid thing to ask, but well since you guys are staying and Megatron has been really quiet…does this mean more of you?"

"That is what we're hoping for with our constant broadcasts into space."

"Not like that…I mean are you guys going to make more of yourselves? I mean it is pretty quiet and all and what if someone wants a baby, sparkling I mean, and settle down while here?"

That pause was a little too familiar to the one he had gotten from Bumblebee. Like they didn't expect such or saw it happening. Which was stupid considering how his species kept getting into wars all the time and they kept having families and such, and Ratchet did say that they had such in a way. Which was weird to think about, but funny as well in trying to imagine Cybertronians raising kids alongside humans, like some weird sitcom show. It was why they had gone after the…oh…

"You guys can't anymore, can you?"

Ratchet's fascination in cleaning a wrench for the second time this conversation made the little bubble of things he was actively oblivious too pop and settle like a lead ball in his stomach. He knew the Allspark was important to them, but he had thought, had hoped that it hadn't been a death warrant for his friends. Sam Witwicky killer of an entire race.

"There had been studies and tentative experiments to replicate the abilities of the Allspark, but the war had put a halt to them."

"So it's too much to hope that you were going to say something like you take a bit of your spark and a bit from someone else's spark to stick together like glue and bam new spark."

"To take off from even multiple sparks without endangering any of the mechs doing so would create a spark that would not be able to power all of the upgrades needed to function…in a fully upgraded body that is."

If Sam had been paying a bit more attention he would have taken that pause as one of deep thought and not of uncomfortable feeling like that last one. As he finished getting dressed and left the now oddly silent Ratchet to his thoughts he mentally kicked himself again for his stupidity.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Late night talks and a miracle  
**Disclaimer: **Still not mines  
**Challenge:** 18coda (On livejournal) #9. Nocturne (Old French: nocturnal; French: "at night") _a quiet, lyrical piece and often with a pensive, dreamy mood_  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Optimus Prime  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd, Post RoTF, Talk of religion  
**Summary: **Sam can't seem to sleep and his late night wanderings lead him to a talk with Optimus Prime and another event he somehow sparked with his questions.

* * *

The first night that Sam spent at NEST with the knowledge he wasn't going back to the mainland except to visit his parents, had been a sleepless one. At first he just sat in irritation at it all on the way too new bed, with the temporary and slightly itchy sheets that would be replaced when the stuff he had packed or ordered beforehand arrived, and sent two more emails to Mikaela in hopes of an answer this time. Only to finally get bored in staring at his empty inbox after thirty minutes to wander the barely populated hallways of the human area of the place. After about four circuits of the area and somehow knowing he could travel the hallways blindfolded now, he turned and started heading to the more populated, but still sparse enough to avoid too many questions, autobot side of the building he had been placed in.

His feet on autopilot as he steadfastly ignored the reason for his sudden insomnia, even as he berated his own mind and kept reminding it that this was not the first time he had slept here and had slept well so lets actually sleep like we're supposed to. Only to stop and stare at where he had ended up and the feelings from his question and answer session with Ratchet bubbling forward and knocking away the fight with Mikaela over his decision to the back reaches of his mind. Sure he knew he had been allowed access here without an autobot present, but it still somehow felt wrong to be in this room with the silver body of Jazz on a table. When inside with 'bee or Ratchet he usually felt subdued and sadden by not getting to know the mech before everything went to hell. Now standing here alone and in the very loud silence (Though how silence could be loud he was so not certain about.) he just felt extremely guilty.

"You'd have been a better choice for revival. I just messed everything up even when I was trying to help."

And it was true in his mind, he almost sold his grandfather's glasses (even if in the end they were useless thanks to Sector Seven.), destroyed the cube that would have kept his friends from becoming the last of their kind, got Optimus killed, probably was part of the reason Jetfire died as well. Yet the Order of the Primes had brought him back when he had died. Sure it was probably because he was holding the sock containing the Matrix sand, but why keep him alive afterwards? And why let Jazz stay dead?

"Samuel, you should be asleep."

One day he was going to ask how someone as big as Optimus could sneak up on him like that, along with how he could use his actual first name and not make it sound hideous to his ears like it did with everyone else.

"I know Optimus…just thinking."

"You would have gotten along with him well."

"It's not fair."

Sam didn't have to turn around to see what sort of expression and body language Optimus was using at that. It was likely the same stance used every time Sam tried to argue about being the fault for Optimus' dying when he did. He knew it was probably a moot point to the Autobots, and Prime in particular; but it didn't mean he had to like the fact.

"I mean, the big guys brought me back, and you back. So how come they don't bring him back?"

"I do not claim to know how the Order of Primes think of this, but they must have a reason Samuel."

"You guys take that really seriously."

"Do not many of the religions on this planet also have such an idea as well concerning their deity or deities?"

"Well yeah, but that never stopped us from asking and getting mad at him. We kinda hope and expect an answer one of these days for what he lets happen to us, and all we have are books or someone telling us God exists and can bring someone back. You guys know it can happen, but don't seem to ever ask…why. Why me and not Jazz when I'm not even of the same species as you guys."

There really wasn't much of an answer to that he guessed, considering how quiet the large mech had gotten. Which was fine with him as they both stood next to one another and watched the motionless body of Jazz for a while longer.

"Samuel, perhaps you should attempt to get some rest again."

"Probably right big guy. Night."

"Good night Samuel."

Having left on such a low note and finally falling asleep an hour later, Sam was not expecting to suffer a small heart attack the next morning. As he stumbled half asleep into the large common area shared by everyone in NEST to witness a very familiar silver Solstice came screeching into the room, only to transform and somehow give off the feeling of grinning manically at the various staring mechs and humans that were in attendance. Only for the supposed to be dead mech to turn his visor towards Sam.

"Well, I reckon it's ya I have to thank for being alive."

Needless to say Sam attempted to make his brain stop running in a sluggish circle of confusion while Ratchet and Sideswipe descended on Jazz and began asking questions. Only for clawed hands to wave in a warding gesture.

"Prime finally asked the Order and they decided I would be important and a lot more helpful alive then dead."

Having slumped to the floor in defeat as his brain decided it had not gotten enough sleep to deal with this and thus took all coherent thought with it, Sam missed the odd look Ratchet sent his way. As if the medic was putting together some pieces of a very abstract puzzle that still didn't make sense, yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Of Talks and Waiting  
**Disclaimer:** Still don't own  
**Challenge:** 18coda (On livejournal) 14. Vivace (Italian: lively)_ To play a piece in a fast,lively tempo._  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Bumblebee, Arcee  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd, Post-RoTF  
**Summary: **Arcee and her actions make Sam ask another question that gets him some vague answers and a feeling of another lecture on the way after they all get off the runway.

* * *

**  
**

Sam's morning started out semi-normally. The normal part being his movements to avoid yet another hit and run by an autobot speeding out of the rec. room, as Mudflap, Skids, and sometimes Sideswipe had to make a hasty retreat from either Ironhide or Ratchet. The not so normal part was that instead of the three usual suspects it was all three newly repaired components of Arcee that had nearly ran him down. The small autobot was normally courteous and mindful of humans even when she was being battle zealous, so for her to do such meant either the world was ending, or Santa Claus was real and was handing out free win the war toys outside.

He was oddly partially right about the latter option. Sure there was no Santa, but more autobots about to make landfall was at least, help make the war go better here card. Even if he did have to ask why this particular group had sent Arcee into doing laps around the perimeter in impatient excitement as they waited for the group that went to fetch the new mechs to return.

"One of the mechs is a tactician named Prowl. He's one of the best and has helped turn the tide of many battles in the past."

"And this makes Arcee become a speeding projectile why?"

"Prowl has the same frame type as Arcee."

"So they're related?"

"In the loosest sense of the word, and more of an obligated loyalty and trust protocol coupled with the rarity of their frame type due to the war."

"So you guys have the robot equivalent to ethnicities that instead of by location it's by your frame?"

"Location can also be a factor as one factory might add an upgrade another factory doesn't."

"I'm going to have to get another culture lecture aren't I?"

The whirr of a few machinery parts was his answer, and after spending this much time around Bumblebee he knew that was the equivalent to a laugh at his expense.

"Two of the new arrivals will probably happily explain anything and everything if you even look interested."

He felt his horrified look was justified and the volume increase of the whirr chuckles was not appreciated considering he was still getting over his first one on one meeting with Bluestreak and that information overload still made his head twinge in phantom pain. Which he felt bad about in retrospect, because Bluestreak was nice but had the eager to please energy of a puppy on speed. So instead he attempted to ignore the yellow scout, while still being held in one of 'bee's hands and instead watched as the pink Arcee unit finished another circuit of the compound, while her blue unit took a running leap to perch on the shoulder of Sideswipe who was also watching the sky above the runway. He was about to break his ignoring act to ask where Arcee's purple unit was at only to have the unspoken question answer as he saw a quick flash and was staring into two sets of blue optics as the purple mech sat on Bumblebee's left shoulder before joining in the conversation.

"Wheeljack isn't as bad, but Perceptor could lecture until the sun collapsed. And Sunstreaker you'd probably want to avoid until he gets settled and briefed on manners."

There wasn't a need to explain or elaborate past that much. Sam had heard stories about Sunstreaker from Sideswipe, and some of the other mechs had not been as well informed or polite when they had made planet fall in regards to interacting with humans. Though it didn't stop him from feeling as excited as the group of autobots waiting near the tarmac as the large C-130 taxi to a halt and the mechs onboard began to drive out in altmodes and wonder when Ratchet dragged two of the newly landed towards medbay while the rest followed Optimus to their debriefing.

Sam felt he was probably going to have to duck and cover a bit more here.

-*_*_*_*End Story Notes_*_*_*_*_*_*

Yes, I made Prowl into a cycleformer like in TFA. No real reason for that but just to do so, and yes I am aware that Prowl shows up in one of the comic prequels. I'm taking my philosophy when it comes to Halo about expanded universe material in ignoring it for the most part. (Anyone in Halo will understand that philosophy, so for those that don't. Bungie has a habit of, when faced with questions by fans about conflicting views on things between the games and the expanded universe material, they tell you that all expanded universe material is not canon and only the games are canon. So only the movies themselves are being treated as canon for this set of prompts.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Of Routines  
**Disclaimer:** Still don't own  
**Challenge:** 18coda (On Livejournal) 12. Legato (Italian: past participle of legare, to bind, tie together) _in a smooth, even style without any noticeable break between the notes_  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Prowl  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd, Post-RoTF  
**Summary: **Sam has a routine broken and replaced with another, and finds even the aliens are sometimes clueless

* * *

Sam had found that the raised walkway that ran diagonal, and one hall away from Wheeljack's claimed lair was an ideal spot to just sit and think. Or not think at all as the case was a lot of the time. The close proximity to Wheeljack's area of play meant that there were few occupied spaces outside of storage, and even then it wasn't uncommon to see the blurred form of, the quiet and yet twitchy, Red Alert in altmode clipping the corner to put out a fire before it made it to one of the storage areas. Add that all of the major areas of business were on the other end of the compound entirely and you didn't see many people or autobots roaming the hallways at any given time. Which meant it didn't take long for Sam, as a young adult still trying to find his niche in this weird world he was now in, to claim it as his own little area and clutter the walkway with items he was too lazy to drag back to his room in the housing area. Making a second sort of home twenty feet above the concrete ground.

Which was probably why he nearly rolled over into empty space out of shock a week after the newly landed had settled in and his little second home had a visitor. The sudden creak-clang of metal on metal had startled him out of his concentration of the game he was currently playing and moving as if he was in his room until his hand felt air and he remembered rolling that way was a bad idea. The missing panic in the thought later on when he looked back on it showing him just how much he blindly trusted the autobots. However, at the time he barely registered it as he moved away from painful injury and Ratchet glare session to the nearly all black metal frame calmly moving down the walkway. Something that would have made him freak out if he hadn't been there when Arcee was stress testing the walkways in the main area and proving the sturdiness of the things. Instead he was just amazed to watch the nearly eleven foot (Though he was probably wrong on the height thing since he never tried to measure Prowl like he had done Bumblebee and Arcee in boredom a month back.) mech move on a space that was made for two humans to stand side by side on as if it was as wide as a street.

Only to stare as the black mech then manage to sit with his legs crossed on the walkway a few feet from Sam. He had seen Arcee bend in ways metal shouldn't be able to bend, but that sort contouring, especially on the very narrow walkway had never been displayed by any of the three units. It was a bit sad that even after two years of constant exposure to them Sam still acted like he had back when he thought his first car was possessed by Satan every now and then over things that were probably really simple for them. Normally about three seconds of him staring the one being stared at would say something, especially on why they were there, or about the staring if they were Mudflap or Skids, but this one didn't and instead turned very dimmed blue optics to stare back.

The staring lasting for about two minutes, which was a pretty long time considering things, before they both turned towards the rest of the hallway, and back to their own projects. Well Sam believed that was what Prowl was doing as he went back to his game, considering 'bee had explained to him in simple terms how much communication and 'paperwork' went on over private and public communication lines. Like having Chat and message boards inside your head. So he figured that Prowl was making the duty rosters for next week, as that job had been all but gleefully thrown at the newly landed as soon as Jazz could do so, and hey Sam was not above finding amusement in imagining a message board like the one he sometimes helped manage for Leo on his site, and 'seeing' Prowl typing up the roster and posting it on there.

Only for them both to look over the side as the vibrations of another explosion rocked through the walkway, and the screech of tires as the white and red blur that was Red Alert once more came around the corner. Considering the amount of wires and electronic equipment that Sam had seen earlier cluttering the hallway near Red Alert's security room and how everyone had been told to not bother the security mech today, he wasn't as surprised that he actually got to hear the muttering Red Alert tended to do over the network. (Which he only knew about because Bumblebee would sometimes mention things that were going on in that alien internet the autobots had.) Though he wasn't expecting the calm response to his accidentally vocal questioning on who this Inferno fellow was that Red Alert was muttering about.

"He was in charge of search and rescue before the war, and even when the war happened he was normally the one who was sent to deal with Wheeljack's and any other scientists' mishaps."

It wasn't that Sam wasn't thankful for being answered, but he normally didn't like asking questions of the new guys until he was certain they weren't going to squish him for asking something he didn't know was rude. This time though he didn't flail and babble as he noticed a sort of humor in the odd facial structure of this mech, and was actually not surprised when he was asked a very familiar question all the mechs seemed to have when it came to humans. It started an odd sort of routine if they were ever both on that walkway, which Sam later found out was for the same reason as why even Arcee would retreat to them when the much larger mechs were crowding the hallway. No one liked being banged or stepped on by some of the rowdier members of the autobots.

Though a month after their first question and answer session they both were at a lost for what purpose the tanks Wheeljack and Ratchet had dragged past them meant. Sam though knew that Prowl would probably find out even if it meant having to play twenty questions with Jazz or decoding Perceptor's vocabulary.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Title:** Hurricane Season  
**Disclaimer: **I still don't make any money from this.  
**Challenge:** "Well when your planet tries to kill you and your entire species all the time I guess you just evolve to expect and go along with it." from Megs on AIM  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Ironhide  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd Post-RoTF  
**Summary: **Ironhide found this new home and the natives on it to not fit sanity, Sam just goes along with it.

* * *

Storms were not at all common and major ones downright rare in the desert sands of Nevada, and though Diego Garcia was afflicted with many of them, none however that would cause massive damage or a lockdown of the base. So it was in a bewildered fashion, that Sam felt was going to be the default emotion of the giant transforming alien robots until the hurricane hit, as they watched humans rush around to prepare. Even as they as a collective started to pitch in and added their own observation and protocols when they all seemed to devote time to tracking and learning about the storm heading their way; in ways that made most of the human half of this odd group stare at them or sigh in familiarity. Those who had survived from Mission City to the present day having at least a passing familiarity with the odd bouts of over protective actions the Autobots would take when they saw their human allies were in supposed danger.

A fact that hours later, as the wind shattered a few of the windows and thus letting the pelting rain and bits of debris find a way into a select few hangars, Sam found himself being suddenly scooped up out of the ankle deep water from a busted pipe flooding a section between the human quarters and the common recreational room without any warning and being brought to the more reinforced area in the building. Just as another howl of wind made the steel support beams and odd metal walls shudder under the force of it. Sam finding it amusing in a way because Ironhide didn't like that fact that he had to 'wait' out the hurricane and couldn't just blast it away like many other problems that he had faced before.

Sam's amusement only growing more as he watched as the humans gathered about seemed at ease and joking about as the walls vibrated under the pressure of the wind. While the Cybertronian occupants seemed amazed and shocked at this, despite the fact these were humans that ran into battle against Decepticons right alongside them. The rumble of thunder and something solid hitting a wall only causing a few starts and looks before everyone went back to what they were doing before the commotion had happen.

"Your planet and your species are both insane."

Sam could only shrug at the statement from the weapon's specialist. He couldn't really deny it.

"Well when your planet tries to kill you and your entire species all the time I guess you just evolve to expect and go along with it."

The look he got for saying that was blank to him; he always had a bit more trouble figuring out Ironhide's expressions, and was just glad it hadn't resulted in any cannon's being prepped as he was let down and joined a group playing poker at one of the tables. He would just be happy when his socks finally stopped squishing between his toes.

* * *

_*_*_*Notes_*_*_*_

A bit small and not as quickly put up as the other chapters I know. Mostly because my original prompt set made me go blank and it wasn't until a friend on AIM (Who I call Megs) typed that sentence at me and this little piece came. I have another piece in the works from a different conversation with Megs in the work and a chapter that actually goes back to the 'plot' of this thing. After that though I'll probably have to scramble for prompts and such. Though if you have one that you wan to shoot my way just throw a pm at me with the Transformer and the prompt or in a review if you don't like or can't use the pm feature. I'll do my best to get to any and all prompts, some may take a bit longer if it is with a bot or con I'm not familiar with or have written for before.

Ciao for now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Title:** Phobia  
**Disclaimer: **I still don't make any money from this.  
**Challenge:** Friendship through fear (Prompt from Megs on aim)  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Silverbolt  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd Post-RoTF  
**Summary: **Sam had acquired a lot of bad memories of falling from great heights due to Megatron, Silverbolt also has that fear from being shot down a few too many times. The greatest icebreaker ever?**  
**

**

* * *

**

Sam had never really been fond of heights growing up, and from Mission City on to today he had collected quite a few memories that equated height to the need to panic. But, surprisingly he never really found himself leaping to that when he did find himself up high, either by a walking platform or by a large metal hand offering him a lift. That didn't mean it didn't decide to be a pain and cause him trouble in life of course, he was never that lucky to have such a thing as a stupid fear disappear for good. No, it just tended to hide better and show up when the bundle of nervous energy that sits somewhere between his heart and his lungs gets too big. Then he can barely step on a stool to grab something out of a cupboard without his heartbeat making a staccato rhythm in his chest.

He tried to not be around any of the 'big guys' when that happened or else he'd find himself being bombarded by scans and a trip to Ratchet; and then, trying to fumble around the words on why it happened when he didn't really get it himself. That was okay though, because that ball of energy tended to stay small for the most part, especially when new arrivals showed up with only minor wounds for Ratchet to bitch about. That little ball of negativity of squashed fears tended to shrivel up quite nicely when he was with 'bee or any of the other bots running around base at any given time. And he wasn't going to question why that was.

This worked a lot better then he thought considering that he was constantly surrounded by the Cybertronians as more and more of them made planet fall. The Autobots almost tripping over one another until Optimus and Lennox managed to get permission to expand their main base and acquiring a smaller base back on the mainland to help relive the expanding population of giant alien robots running around the place. Something even Red Alert had cheered about when it was official, because they wouldn't be three mech deep to a room. (Sam had a feeling that was why he had _not_ seen Red Alert, since he was certain Prowl had mentioned something about Red Alert and social awkwardness taken to a new level or such when he asked about the quiet and twitchy mech.)

So he was a bit surprised when the shuddering and body freeze happened while walking idly down one of the elevated walkways. Sweaty palms and shortness of breath being the party crashers that they were, soon followed and had him unconsciously clinging to the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him from making a lovely red splatter on the grey concrete below. Never mind he was standing on a thick and sturdy piece of steel that could hold all three Arcee units without squeaking under the pressure, his mind was completely believing that he was going to fall and die horribly any moment now, thank you very much.

Until he suddenly found himself being cradled in a silvery grey hand that was pretty large, considering he couldn't get his arms wrapped fully around a finger. Only then did he finally stop shaking and hyperventilating as he looked up into concerned blue optics of Silverbolt. The fact he was just being held and not being rushed to Ratchet or Medbay was enough of a novelty for him to gain the rest of his sanity, and stuff that stupid fear back in its box and underneath a mental bed as he stared back in an almost shock at this.

"I think I know what you're going through Sam."

Oh. Now he remembered. Overhearing Epps talking with Jazz and asking how anyone who was built to be in the air was afraid to be in the air. He hadn't really thought about it back then, as he had been mentally and emotionally batted around by the five new ones that had shown up together; and wondering just how so very different and warring personalities were a team and worked together so well. When they weren't of course bickering amongst themselves or with others (Well okay that was mostly the fault of one or two of the new guys, but they were normally seen together so it was hard not to be inclusive on that.) That though wasn't a train of thought he should be on since he was just staring dumbly at the guy holding him and he should probably say something.

"Don't you hate how uncool it is sometimes?"

The sudden blank look as the guy translated that sentence to be understandable had Sam mentally kicking himself for a bit. He sometimes forgot not everyone of the aliens took to human lingo as easily as 'bee or Jazz, or had been around long enough to pick it up.

"Especially when you have those around that won't ever let you live it down."

It wasn't even the words that had gotten to him but the tone used. That exasperated and fearful, but still light and able to laugh about it as well that just hit home with Sam. It just clicked as the two seemed to get it completely with each other and what that little ball of fear could do without fumbling and trying to vocalize the circling thoughts flying around.

Bumblebee would always be his best friend and the Cybertronian he trusted completely, no matter what; but Silverbolt had wormed his way into second place that day.

All because of an irrational fear of falling with no one there to catch you.

* * *

[Here's the Fish. Watch the Fish do shameless plugging. Advertise Fish, Advertise.]

So, as anyone who has looked at my profile lately has probably already noticed this, but...I have created another Big Idea. Only difference this time being I made it into a get together and am desperately and shamelessly going to ask people here to have a look and join my crazy adventure. This big adventure is known as **tf_rallypoint** over on livejournal and would really be happy if anyone should join and help get the ball rolling on it. For those who need a link my homepage link on the profile has been changed to direct you to this place as well.

So yeah, go look, join, play with me at **tf_rallypoint** I don't bite and I'd even love anyone that wants to help me run the place. So come on and check it out on **livejournal****  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Title:** Of Names and Meanings  
**Disclaimer:** I still don't make any money from this.  
**Challenge:** What's in a name (Random prompt generator)  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Wheeljack  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd Post-RoTF  
**Summary:** The science team's project is made public and in visiting it and Wheeljack things are discussed of a cultural nature.

* * *

The first time Sam had seen one of the 'New Sparks', as they were being nicknamed he had thought it looked painfully small and couldn't see how it would be enough. The white ball of light could have easily fit in the hand of one of the Arcee units with room to spare, which compared to a human was pretty big, but, thinking in terms of the autobots it didn't seem like it would be enough. Yet, the bright green and white mech was placing the globe of light into a chest compartment, chasis if he remembered the term right from his sort of Cybertronian-English slang lessons, with a lot of confidence and cheer.

Of course, cheer in this particular mech was not all that uncommon, as Wheeljack could be bouncing with giddiness as a bomb went off right next to him. In this though, Sam felt certain as he leaned against the thick glass that let him watch while keeping the radiation from the spark away from him, was the good kind of cheer and not the maniacal type. After all, the engineer and Ratchet had been number crunching and debating on how to do this for two straight years when they weren't helping out in integrating new arrivals into the base or going out for the occasional Decepticon scuffle; so Wheeljack would be a bit more thoughtful in this then his latest oddball scheme or reverse engineering Decepticon weaponry.

It still made him uneasy though, as that cynical side that he had kept finding ways that this would fail and how even in a roundabout way it would be his fault. He wasn't certain just how much he would be to blame, but it would be his fault for some how getting their hopes up. That nasty little voice that was always ready to remind him of what he had done wrong since his first hearing of Archibald Witwicky and the 'Ice Man', which not even now at the age of twenty three could he readily forget.

"You want to come in and meet the new kids Sam?"

The sudden intrusion of Wheeljack's voice in his right ear had him jerking up from his slouched position on the glass. One hand already moving up to adjust the volume of the little communication device now affixed to his head. Once the ringing stopped he was already scrambling for the stairs and towards the door, part of him just as giddy as everyone else on base over this. Movement from ground to a large metal hand as easy to him now as if he had been doing it for his entire life. The swaying as he was lifted and deposited on the table that sat in front of the row of glass tubes.

"Why five of them 'jack?"

"Hmm, oh that's just how it worked out when everything was said and done. We didn't expect so many to volunteer for the procedure when we first talked about it. In a year when we know for certain how these kiddos have taken to it, we might actually have to have too many running around then we know what to do with if everyone keeps being this enthusiastic over it."

Sam didn't really blame anyone for that, as he watched the odd lights on the side of Wheeljack's head light up in a certain shade of blue that might have been happiness or some other positive emotion. (He was still learning how to read them, but he was better at it then Epps was at least.)

When the first meeting regarding this had happened most of the others had seemed overly stunned and disbelieving of what was being told to them. Enough so that even he wasn't certain if it would even get off the ground after Ratchet had explained the process that the big guys would have to go through to donate some of their sparks to the project. Yet a week after that meeting there had been a line of Autobots outside Optimus' office to volunteer for it.

"I don't think you'll lack babysitters though."

"Indeed, Ratchet thinks it might even be a good idea to have those like Major Lennox and other human parents give lectures and classes to all of the available bots on base.-"

He almost asked why on that until he remembered a Ratchet Conversation years ago on kids and Cybertronians. Hard to forget _that_ conversation when he learned what he had done to his friends during Mission City.

"Especially considering that for the next earth decade they're going to be no more advance emotionally then human children in the age range of kindergartners, until we're certain their sparks are stabilizing and we can upgrade their basic programming with more sophisticating, if energy taxing systems. We figure it will also be a good idea to keep them with only a basic communication set up without internet access. Meaning anything we didn't already give them will have to be 'researched' the hard way as they grow."

He hadn't even noticed that the engineer had still been talking when he had zoned out until that last part.

"What are they getting program wise? Like are you going to…I don't know, download Cybertronian medicine 101 into one or more of them?"

"Oh no, since we're not factory building workers ready to begin upon onlining it was decided to let them 'grow up' and decide what they want to be when it comes time to upgrade them into bigger frames and larger processor capabilities. Prime is very keen on the whole freedom for all sentient beings. We're not even certain if we'll give them their designations, let them choose their designations, or give them temporary ones until they're older and thus can choose one to fit their choices in careers or to reflect their personalities."

"Wait, wait, wait, you guys do that? Is that why like Bluestreak is named as he is? And Smokescreen?"

The head fin like lights flashed again in what was definitely amusement that time at him.

"Yes, though our names have a bit more in variety and layers when it comes to what they describe in our actual language. Our English names are generalizations of our actual names and meanings so as to be pronounceable to your kind."

And here Wheeljack leaned closer to Sam as if he was telling a very important piece of gossip. Which he probably was as Sam had learned within months of living with the Autobots, that all of them were not above idle gossip like housewives talking over the fence to one another.

"I have it on good authority that Jazz just picked the name of the first genre of earth music that he heard because he couldn't find a good enough substitute in any earth language for his actual name, and still come off as friendly and approachable. Now, I think we'd be hard pressed to get him to go by his original designation again."

"So name changing isn't that uncommon for you guys?"

"A designation is to show who you are in our culture, meaning it would be easier to change a designation if you have changed in someway as well. Ratchet had lived under a different designation when he was a politician in Iacon, then when he became a medic he changed it to easily show such had happened to him."

It was a nice and also terrifying thought, considering how humans rarely changed their names. He really couldn't see himself changing his, even after everything he had gone through. He still felt like Sam who was a dork in school and was prone to talking a lot when nervous, he now was just Sam who also had giant transforming alien robots as friends and family in a weird sort of way. Yet it had a sort of thrill to the idea as well, like a rite of passage or something, being able to pick a name you know described you and you alone.

"…Well at least it'll be interesting to see what they'll be called in the end then."

Sam actually looked forward to seeing how these kids would be like through their names as he looked once more at the tanks holding them. The coming year would be interesting, especially for the fliers when he noticed one of them had what appeared to be helicopter rotors forming on his back.

* * *

**Author's Corner

* * *

**

E-points to those who know who the five kiddos are, though it's probably obvious there. I'm also still willing to take any prompts you guys might have for this series. Just need a character, or characters, along with the prompt you want me to subject Sam to. I will work write for the prompts and post them as quickly as possible between 'plot chapters' like this one.**  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Title:** Of daily life  
**Disclaimer:** I still don't make any money from this.  
**Challenge:** "I guess for all the stuff you can fix, stupidity isn't one of them."(from Jagwarakit here on ffn)  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, Ratchet  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd Post-RoTF  
**Summary: **A typical day in the life of a soon to be liaison for an alien race, and what he sees while in his 'professor's' medbay.**  
**

**

* * *

**

It had started out normal enough for Sam, when you took out the jittery nerves of everyone not on patrol or duty who would find some reason to stop by the nursery (As most of the permanent humans on base had been calling it after getting over the "baby robots, really?') to 'sneakily' check on the soon to be running around sparklings. The good nature game of live Frogger just to get breakfast in the middle of a shift change, something blowing up on the other side of the base with Wheeljack's 'don't panic' radio transmission as Red Alert nearly careened his face into the midsection of Optimus in his run to play damage control, going past the hangar being used as an office and storage room with a cup of coffee just as Prowl in a slowly becoming normal pique of emotion kicked a grinning Jazz out of the area he was using for tactical analysis, the mini twins hanging upside down from a ceiling…okay that wasn't normal but Mudflap and Skids probably deserved it; passing Perceptor as he studied some random item one of the human scientists had brought with them, Bumblebee and Arcee in a supposed training exercise against Ironhide with Bluestreak playing commentator alongside Smokescreen, and just as he was finished with his caffeine fix he had reached medbay in time to watch Sideswipe get chased out by a less then pleased Ratchet.

Like clockwork, once the medic was certain the silver terror was gone Sam felt the prickling of medical scans briefly wash over him before being picked up and carried into the hallowed halls of medbay. From there was the usual byplay of inane questions and threats of him being used to scrub tools by hand for the rest of his life in retaliation of his questions; He settled himself on the far left corner of Ratchet's desk that he had claimed and began to cram as much information on Cybertron that he could into his head before he begged for a break. No one had asked him if he wanted to be the human cultural expert on the big guys when they finally went public and people wanted to talk to someone their size instead of someone that could easily step on them. Yet, here he was and considering who Galloway had wanted to be put in place it was better for all of them. Maybe when the guy finally retired out of frustration with them all they could stop having to one up the guy to prove a point.

While reading a legend about a Nexus Prime that may or may not be more then a fairytale, Red Alert and Perceptor had brought a smoking and missing an arm Wheeljack in for repairs before both scattered back to their duty stations. The typical conversation that could be summarized in Wheeljack being cheeky and was 'this' close to making it not explode while Ratchet went on about how he was one day going to not fix the engineer when he did this. An empty threat Sam thought to himself as he exited out of that document file and on to the next when he was certain he could recite it word for word in his sleep. During the history of the Golden Age, Sentinel Prime's era to be specific, he got a small break to ask the dented form of his best friend and Guardian how training went, even as Ratchet glared at an unrepentant Ironhide over the fact live rounds had been used without any warning or proper planning for such, while the pink and blue Arcee units quizzed him on what he had just read while her purple unit and Bumblebee got looked over and repaired. After they had left and he had started reviewing the history of the Towers he had started on last week Sunstreaker had shown up and silently acquired the tools to buff out a scratch on his armor, before leaving as quickly as he had shown up.

It was about then that Ratchet called a halt to his studies and set him back on the floor to traverse to the cafeteria for lunch while the medic took reports that needed to be looked at to Optimus. After another round of Autobot's dodging human obstacles, and hearing about a new toy that Lennox and his team were getting to try out later on today, Sam made a break for freedom when he was certain not to run face first into someone's very hard and metallic ankle in doing so. He managed two hours of freedom by helping Bluestreak clean some of the weapons by getting into places an Autobot couldn't get to without some clever thinking and makeshift tools. That only came to an end because both of them had scrambled out of the weapons storage when Ironhide had passed by chasing a manically laughing Sideswipe.

The chase ending with Sideswipe being helped to medbay by Bluestreak after Ironhide managed a lucky shot on the frontliner. The result had Sam back on his desk and Bluestreak sneaking away before Ratchet could find a reason to keep him in medbay. The repairs were made quickly and once more Sam witnessed Ratchet chasing that particular twin out of medbay, all while grumbling about the lack of maturity and intelligence amongst those he had to fix all the time.

"I guess for all the stuff you can fix, stupidity isn't one of them."

Sam had just gotten a Look from the medic after that comment and he wisely went back to reading about Primus and Unicron.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Title:** Of Sparklings and Naps  
**Disclaimer:** I still don't make any money from this.  
**Challenge:** Naptime from Squee on AIM  
**Rating:** K  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sam Witwicky, mentions of Slingshot, Air Raid, Blades, Groove, Ratchet, First Aid, Silverbolt, Hot Spot, Ironhide, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Prowl, and Streetwise  
**Warnings/Comments:** Unbeta'd, Post-RoTF  
**Summary: **Sam thinks as he watches the daily happenings when naps are to be taken.**  
**

**

* * *

**

It was the sudden high pitch giggle that made him look up and over the railing of the walkway he was lounging on and nearly double over in laughter himself. Because no matter how many times he would see such, it would never get old. Especially when it involved some of the crankier 'bots running around. Like now as the little red and white with helicopter rotors twitching over his back used all seven feet of his height to attempt aiding in his glare of death at Slingshot. Of course the glare would probably work better in, say thirty years when the one his ire was directed at couldn't just pick him up and tuck him under an arm. Now though, Sam had to mentally agree that the glare was more adorable then threatening at this point in the kid's life.

The fact the smaller by about a foot white colored kid, sparkling he really should be used to that word by now considering everything, was laughing away at the stare down and it was taking the normally prickly Slingshot all of his will to not smile or laugh along with while pretending to stare the helicopter down. Until, from out of nowhere the familiar wing shape of Air Raid swooped in and snatched up a now squeaking in surprise and agitation helicopter before giving a jaunty salute and beginning to just walk around the base with the now sulking helicopter as Slingshot grabbed the still giggling one with the slowly becoming apparent features of a motorcycle form in his future and began a circuit in the opposite direction. Their departure to hopefully run the two ragged and into a nap leaving the hallway in an odd silence without the usual manic sound of mini alien robots running around like overgrown kindergartners.

Oh if he wanted to see a hilarious sight involving the autobots, with their giant cannons and personal pride being torn to shreds, he could just wander past medbay and see a ball of red and white curled up with one hand having a death grip on a piece of bright yellow/green armor. While Ratchet found new ways to bitch out a patient without waking up the sparkling that had developed the habit of acting like he was magnetically attached to the medic. Of course he wasn't suicidal enough to laugh or even act like he was taking note of such where the medic could see it. Much in the way he took pity on a harried looking Silverbolt as he entered the recreational room and saw that the big flyer was the odd man out on nap time duty. Just as the eight foot blue blur passed by while laughing and seeming not at all to be ready to fall over from lack of energy.

The subsequent aid in distracting the ball of energy enough for Silverbolt to finally snatch him up reminding the human on why that one was pretty much called all manners of hyperactive in regards to the nicknames he gained as he wasn't yet ready to share his name. Which they all knew he had, considering the kids had said as much when they were first helped out of their tanks and looked over by an oddly twitching Ratchet that first day, with the typical look of a kid who had a secret but wasn't going to tell you it. Who had pretty much turned towards the aerialbots and somehow silently doomed them to being the main ones to watch the set of five.

Well, odd until someone actually told him that the whole take a couple of already decent sized robots and combine them into a giant robot like the one back in Egypt wasn't a unique thing. Sam still hadn't gotten over the whole awe of watching Silverbolt and his team do that during a demonstration. He though hoped that these five would calm down a bit before they learned to do that because they already were running the 'bots ragged and there were about three more on the way as well.

That was a scary thought and amusing at the same time when he watched a bunch of competent robotic soldiers get bested by a pair of little faces with flickering optics in the closes thing to the teary eyed kicked puppy look their faces could produce. Made even more comedic as Ratchet hoped his curse upon Ironhide and Optimus would stick when the two would comment about the bundle of joy that probably would have been stepped on by now if the medic didn't have such quick reflexes and superior sensors. Knowing luck though if one of the new ones took to Ironhide they'd all fear in case the trigger happiness transferred to the next generation.

That wouldn't be for a while yet though as the three new ones were only a year into their two year 'sleep' and he had to be quick to catch at least part of the usual teasing as Jazz made quips at Prowl and the little one that followed him around and the game of find the sparkling to put him down for a nap both older bots would have to play when they finally noticed the kid had fled.


End file.
